


land

by wilfre



Series: know the game [2]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, NOW its time for spys tale of woe, Unhealthy Relationships, also im only tagging medic heavy & scout as the other characters bc demo and engie dont say anything, oops i tagged pyro too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-19 08:43:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20206933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilfre/pseuds/wilfre
Summary: spy's perspective.





	land

**Author's Note:**

> me: angst  
me: minecraft time  
me: Angst Continuation!

"I love you," he had said—and he meant it.

At the time.

Sniper grinned, pulling him closer. "I love you, too." He hummed, tracing circles on Spy's bare back. The TV crackled softly downstairs; combined with his lover's gentle touches, Spy was almost lulled into a peaceful sleep.

Almost.

"Hey," Sniper whispered.

Spy looked up at him. "Hm?"

"Wanna know a secret?" Spy was too sleepy for words, but he raised his eyebrows to show his interest. "You know earlier at the restaurant when I suddenly went to the bathroom? It's 'cause I got a bad piece of meat and didn't wanna spit it out in front of you."

Spy stared at him for a second, grin slowly overtaking his face before he erupted into a wheezy laugh.

"You were too embarrassed?"

"I thought you'd think it was gross."

Spy snorted, playfully smacking his chest. "This is coming from the man who throws _ urine _ on people!"

"Yeah, I know."

He stares at his empty bottle of wine.

He fucked up.

He knows it.

But he's in too deep.

He opens another bottle.

They were home from a night on the town; a night Spy felt off about the whole time. He wasn't sure why. As they fell onto Spy's bed, Sniper practically assaulted him with kisses.

"I love you!" Sniper said, embracing the other man tightly. Spy smiled.

"..I love you, too."

That was the first time he hesitated, and the last time he said it at all.

It was all downhill from there.

He started wondering if he had meant it—if he had ever meant it at all.

As they laid there, Sniper lovingly nuzzled into him, Spy couldn't bring himself to touch him back.

While Sniper drifted off, Spy examined the faults in himself. He may have been in his own room, in his own bed, but he hadn't felt this lost in a while.

Were his feelings fabricated?

Did he love Sniper, or did he just love the idea of him—the idea of a relationship? Was his love just manifested from a lonely place in his mind; a place so desperate for connection it latched onto the first person to give him attention?

He realized it wasn't real.

Head in his hands, he steals a glance at the clock. Six-thirty exactly. Dinner is probably done by now, and he figures he should probably get some food down to soak up any further alcohol.

He steps downstairs and into the kitchen, where several of his teammates are gathered. Only Pyro, the apparent chef, eagerly waves to him. He can't blame the others; he's surprised even Pyro is happy to see him.

Demoman, finished with his dinner, stands and collects his dishes. He rinses them in the sink and heads out, and Spy takes his place at the table.

Pyro has to cook more meat, so he makes himself a plate of asparagus and mashed potatoes in the meantime. He drops an asparagus on the floor, quietly cursing to himself and leaning down to pick it up. 

He somehow misses. The vegetable appears to be swaying slightly, mocking him, laughing at his face at the inability to do a basic task. He chuckles to himself at the absurdity of the situation before finally managing to pick it up. He finally emerges from under the table, placing the fallen food aside on his plate, and realizes Medic is staring at him.

"What?"

"Are you alright?"

"Are you?"

"Wh—" Medic's eyebrow's furrow, and he gives a dismissive wave of his hand. He adjusts his glasses and goes back to his food. "Nevermind."

Spy is a bit dizzy. Now Scout and Heavy are staring at him as well. Great.

Engineer might've been, too; he couldn't tell with the goggles and all, but he cleans up and leaves as well.

Pyro hesitantly places a cut of meat on Spy's plate before going back to cooking. He nods graciously, though their back is now turned.

"Thanks," he murmurs, beginning to cut into it.

A few rooms away, the front door to the base opens.

Medic turns to Heavy and begins a conversation. Even if Spy wanted to listen in, he couldn't. All his focus is on cutting his food, which is a lot harder than it should be at the moment.

"Snipes!" Scout suddenly beams, and Spy's heart stops.

He couldn't run away.

This wasn't like the deal with Scout's mom—they were teammates, they were _ coworkers_, they had a god-damn _ contract! _

You can't run from the fine print.

Though Spy was no doubt the sneakiest and most sly of all nine mercenaries, even he wouldn't be able to run from this. He could change his name, his appearance, move a thousand miles away; all things he's done before.

But the Administrator had her ways.

She would find him.

You can't run from death, either.

So he was stuck.

Spy wasn't the type to formally end a relationship. He didn't know how.

All he knew how to do was run and hide.

His only options were out of the picture.

He tried to fake it until he made it; he was great at faking, after all.

But that was for himself. Faking it for another person? Tiring. Extremely tiring. Eventually, he couldn't even bear to spend the night with Sniper anymore.

Sniper was a bit upset, of course, but tried to be understanding.

Which Spy hated.

Why couldn't Sniper get mad, realize Spy's been treating him like shit, _ end it _ so Spy didn't have to?!

Despite it all, Spy still indulged in the intimacy.

He hated himself for it.

Panting, nails digging into Spy's back, Sniper had repeated those three words that made the other man's stomach churn.

"I love you," he whined, pulling Spy closer, "I love you."

Spy didn't say it back.

With his "lover" resting contently on his chest, Spy felt so horrible but so, so wonderful at the same time.

Spy forces himself not to look at him.

"Hey."

He hears Sniper walk over to the cabinets, grabbing a plate. Spy focuses on his food. He won't look. Just focus. Focus focus focus. Don't look.

After pleading from Scout for him to stay, Sniper settles right across next to him.. and across from Spy. Fuck. He jabs at his steak.

His plate blurs. Focus. 

Heavy mumbles something, and Sniper suddenly snarls, stabbing his fork down. The table lurches from the other man's movement. Spy's gonna be sick. Focus.

Head in his hand and forces some mashed potatoes down. He sits up to wipe his mouth.

He looks.

And Sniper was looking back.

Fuck.

He locked himself in his room.

It was over.

Sniper had figured it out; had interrogated him and shouted and cried. 

Finally.

He collapsed onto his bed, tugging at the blankets until he was covered, hiding away from the world. Trying to hide from himself.

He should've ended it sooner. Now he only feels awful; there's no rainbow after the rain. There was barely any relief—just anxiety and regret.

He fucked up.

He had dug his own grave, and now he was lying in it.

As soon as Sniper leaves, Spy quickly finishes up his dinner. He takes the liberty of washing all the dishes, trying to distract himself and focus on anything that wasn't related to Sniper.

He waits for Pyro to finish using the pots and pans, then cleans them too. 

Everyone has left at this point.

It's just him and some squeaky-clean plates.

He wants to break one.

He doesn't. He tentatively peeks between the blinds above the sink, searching for Sniper's van, for some twisted solace.

It isn't there.

He turns the lights off, trudges back upstairs. He fishes his keys out of his pocket, sticks them in the door to his room.

And he cries.


End file.
